The Resistance Brief: Deep is the Heart of Texas

Blog by Ricardo Martinez (he/him), Executive Director

I spent the 4th of July in Central Texas. Over the long weekend, I was hoping to recenter after a series of losses that felt heavy on my spirit (the Skrmetti and Mahmoud Supreme Court decisions, and the passage of both Trump’s harmful budget reconciliation bill and a transgender healthcare ban in New Hampshire). And while I subscribe and work to realize the ideals of equality and liberty this country was founded on, I found myself reckoning with complex emotions about what it means to be American and celebrate the 4th when powerful people are actively denying liberty, equality, and the pursuit of happiness to millions of people and families.  

For many, the idea of traveling to Texas to rest and regain a sense of calm and balance may feel like an oxymoron. But you must understand that I have a profound love for the south, particularly Texas.  

My grandmother spent time in Texas as a migrant worker – splitting her time between Mexico and Brownsville. She spoke lovingly of the Lonestar State whenever she would tell me stories. Two of my uncles were also born in the Rio Grande Valley. Texas gifted me loving friendships, experiences that have prepared me to lead in this moment, and connections to rural and suburban places I never imagined having ties to. It also introduced me to some of the fiercest civil rights advocates.  

I landed in Austin on Thursday night, shortly before the torrential rains began to ravage Central Texas. The downpour, totaling up to 15 inches in some areas on Friday, contributed to the Guadalupe River rising over 30 feet in 2 hours. As I sat home alone, watching the storm, news outlets began to report the devastation in Kerr, Williamson, Kendall, and Travis Counties. My heart broke as we learned about the over 100+ lives lost, including the 27 campers and counselors from Camp Mystic. I can’t imagine the catastrophic impact that losing loved ones, especially children, will have on communities across Central Texas for years to come. And I wasn’t alone; the collective grief was so intense it was palpable, and Texans mobilized to help. That’s what they do – that is what I believe most of us would do if given the opportunity. 

We all understand loss, the importance of chosen or given family, and the value of roots from where we grew up. In the faces of those lost, we see our neighbors and our siblings. In the debris of destroyed homes, we recognize memories and community. And in coming together to rebuild, we honor our fallen.     

It’s in moments of acute tragedy that I believe our innate ability to recognize each other’s humanity comes naturally without conditions. Our sadness did not depend on who the victims loved, whether they attended the same house of worship we attended or if their parents voted for the same people we voted for – it only mattered that their suffering felt unjust and death untimely.   

Bearing witness to profound suffering can be a catalyst for emotional awareness, connection, empathy, unity, and altruism. Though it should not take a tragedy to evoke empathy and remind us of the fragility of this life, I’m heartened by the national response – it’s a reminder of the goodness that still exists in this world. Imagine how much good could be done if we could tap into this force to extend that profound empathy to all corners of this country – to ensure our elected leaders are committed to improving the lives of everyone, upholding the rule of law, alleviating suffering from the sick, making education and jobs with livable wages that help put food on the table more accessible.    

The night before my flight back to Austin, I received a kind email from a colleague referencing Frederick Douglass’ 1860 speech defending the Constitution and reminding me that “if the Government has been governed by mean, sordid, and wicked passions, it does not follow that the Constitution is mean, sordid, and wicked.” And so, in emerging from my voluntary retreat to Texas for reflection, I can say with certainty that there yet is much to be celebrated about the people and the fabric of this imperfect country and yet so much more to be done to ensure preventable tragedies don’t occur, people are treated with dignity and respect, and everyone has a fair shot at a good life.   

If Douglass could defend the value of our democracy and Constitution in the face of overwhelming oppression, we too can strive for justice and a shift in our collective consciousness that prioritizes compassion and the wellbeing for all Americans. The mean, sordid, and wicked who govern us will fall away, and, just as it has for centuries, our community will endure. Texans will endure.

What to know, what to do: 

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